en Cuevana. As a teenager, I used to take a bus, whose ticket had the inscription "To the Flores Cemetery" as the end of its route. At that time, whenever I saw the ticket, I thought of Charles Baudelaire's "The Flowers of Evil" and of imaginary walks the bus would take me on until I reached the Flores Cemetery. Thirty years later, I found one of those tickets in a box, and it makes me think of finitude and the transient. Film made with Floripondio flowers, Hollyhock and Santa Rita petals, blood, cobwebs, insects found after a storm, mushrooms, onions, and hair on 16mm film.
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